


Anyway, Here's Wonderwall

by Java_bean



Series: 500 Follower Fic Requests [5]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Meteorstuck, Music, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-16 18:55:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15443622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Java_bean/pseuds/Java_bean
Summary: Dave and Rose have a long heart to heart in her room while listening to Earth's #1 greatest hit song of all time.





	Anyway, Here's Wonderwall

**Author's Note:**

> This was written off a prompt from congratsitsafandomblog on tumblr (who in my opinion gives some really excellent prompts). 
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this, Dave and Rose are two of my favorite characters and I love writing them and any bonding moments between them. I hope you like reading it! <3

Sometimes, you take a break from hanging out with the trolls. Not often, but sometimes. Just the occasional break from the seemingly endless hours spent in close quarters rubbing elbows with aliens. 

Aliens who are for the most part friendly and interesting individuals, and one individual whom you are interested in a way that is more than friendly. 

It’s nothing against them. Sometimes their constant presence just becomes too much to handle. Sometimes you get overwhelmed with too much new information about them and their species too fast. Culture shock that you would never willingly admit to.

After all, you’re a seer. Information is your forte. 

And sometimes, very rarely, the thing that overwhelms you is your own emotions. The presence of other people, simply knowing they’re there, is enough to make you more than a bit uncomfortable. Sometimes your anxiety spikes and you have to be by yourself for awhile to decompress.

You would never tell anyone about this, not even Dave, who you know is going through the same thing as you.

You’re laying on the floor, trying your best to relax. Music plays at an almost whispering volume from a shitty CD player you finally managed to alchemize after a long afternoon of trial and errors with Dave’s help. The CDs you alchemized by yourself. 

You hear a knock, which you promptly ignore. 

“Rose?” Dave’s voice is muffled by the door. “Are you in there?”

You don’t want to respond, but you sigh regretfully and say “Yes.”

“Can I come in?”

You want to say no, but it’s so rare that you spend time alone with Dave. He’s probably here for a reason. “The door’s unlocked.”

“Cool, thanks.” Dave pulls the door open and slides into the room. “Vriska’s been riding my dick all day about having me practice strifing with her.”

“Oh, has she?” You say as he closes the door. “Has she been riding your dick, Dave?”

“God, you’re terrible.” He shakes his head at you, as if he didn’t see that coming when he phrased it like that. “And what the fuck are you doing on the floor?”

You stretch out a hand in the direction of the CD player. “Partaking in some sick beats.”

“Like what? The fucking New York dog whistle orchestra?” He asks, you can barely make out a raised eyebrow over the edge of his shades. “I’m listening and I can’t hear shit.”

“It’s actually Beethoven’s Fifth symphony in 45 kiloHertz, but I understand how you could make that mistake.”

“Beethoven?” Dave repeats, tilting his head. “Like, the dog?”

“Not many people know this, but he was also a composer.” You reply. “He was a canine of many talents.”

He nods in agreement. “He damn well was. Mind if I chill here for a bit and listen to some literally bitchin’ tunes with you?”

“Come down here, Dave.” You stroke the floor invitingly with one arm. “Join me on the floor.”

“You know what? I think I’ll take your bed. It’s just sitting there, calling me with its squishy slab of dope ass comfort, y’know? It’s calling me, Rose, whispering my name. Call me crazy, but when a pillow starts trying to negotiate a way for me to rest my sweet head on it, I’m sure as shit gonna listen.”

“Okay, fine, take the bed.” You wave away his explanation with a hand as he jumps onto your mattress. “Just don’t get too comfortable, I don’t want your boy stink all over my sheets.”

“Got it.” He says as he rolls onto his back and spreads out. “I’ll keep stink to a minimum. But I’ll have you know I smell sweet as a motherfucking flower. Every time I let one rip it’s like I’m poppin’ daisies straight out of the fragrant prairie that is my asshole.”

“I would equate it closer to pushing daisies. Please don’t fart on my bed.”

“I know, I know. I already agreed to keep stink to a minimum, what more do you want from me?”

“I suppose that’s all I can ask for, realistically speaking.” You shrug.

He rolls around on your bed again so he’s laying on his stomach, his head is at the foot of your bed. “You’re damn right that’s all you can ask for realistically. Hey, can you turn this shit up or nah? I’d like to take a better listen to this dog music.”

“Nah.” You say as you crawl over to the CD player and turn the volume up a few notches. You lay back down next to it, the music’s practically blasting in your ears.

You close your eyes to listen in an attempt to lose yourself in the sound. Dave is quiet, quieter than you think you’ve ever heard him before. You don’t worry about it, it’s easier to ignore him and pretend you’re alone this way.

But this is Dave, so his silence doesn’t last very long. “Hey, Rose, I couldn’t help but notice that this isn’t classical dog music.”

“It’s classical,” you reply, “in a sense.”

“Isn’t this fucking Wonderwall?”

“Classic.” You crack open an eye and nod. “You get it.”

He snorts. “Classic what?” 

“Oh, you know.” You shrug. “Classic Earth music. When we win the game, this will be lauded as classic traditional Earth music. It will be played in academic centers-”

“It’s already played in academic centers.” 

“Yes, but this time people will enjoy it.”

“Rose, I don’t think there’s any universe where that’s possible.” He shakes his head. “Not even one we made.”

“Well, we’ll just have to wait and see about that.”

“Why the hell are you even listening to this?” Dave asks, propping his head up with his hands. “No offense, but you don’t strike me as the 90‘s soft rock alternative type.”

“Oh?” You sit up and raise an eyebrow at him. “And what type do I seem like?” 

“I don’t know, violin?”

“Violin isn’t a genre.” 

“Anything’s a genre if you do it right.” He points out. “So what the fuck do you like listening to?”

“We’ve been friends for years and you don’t even know what kind of music I like?”

Dave shrugs. “You never mentioned it. All this time I thought you hated music.”

“And yet you constantly spammed me with links to your raps.”

“I said I thought you hated music, not that I thought you hated fucking art.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that. And to answer your question about what kind of music I like, I’m not particularly picky. I’ll listen to anything as long as it’s not country.”

You do make exception to some of the better country, though. But that is a secret you will take to your grave.

“But I’m your favorite artist, right?”

“Yes, Dave,” you grin, “you’re my favorite rapper.”

“Rose, that wasn’t my question and you know it.” 

“I know.” You say it so bluntly that Dave doesn’t even try to ask again. He’s probably worried to find out what your actual answer would be.

“Hey, is it just me or is this song going on way longer than it’s supposed to?” Dave wonders, quick to change the subject. 

You nod. “You’re right, this song is on a loop. It’s the only thing on this CD.”

“Well what the fuck.” 

“That’s just how it is sometimes.” 

“Well if you ever want to listen to some new and original shit as opposed to this dinosaur garbage, I’m about to drop a motherfucking bombass album on sick beat city.” 

“Perfect, I’ve been waiting for another Dave Strider original.” You reply. “Am I correct to assume it’s a solo album?”

“Nah, I actually got a guest artist to work on it with me. A Kartist, actually. It was Karkat. He’s the guest artist. It’s that guy.”

“Funny, he doesn’t strike me as the rapping type.”

“Oh yeah, he’s not.” Dave agrees. “But he does do a pretty good job mixing shit, which came as a fucking shock considering how long and sharp his nails are. Did you know he refuses to cut them? I mean I know I’m not the poster child for cleanliness or whatever but I think Karkat might actually be allergic to basic fucking hygiene.”

“Is that so?” You raise an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, he’s real gross. Sometimes I have to hold my breath around him because he’s so smelly.”

“Would you say he’s a dirty boy, Dave?”

“Yes, but I don’t like the implication you’re trying to make.” He frowns. “Stop it or I’m gonna start insinuating shit about you and Kanaya while smirking and doing that eyebrow wiggle thing.”

You teasingly wiggle your eyebrows. “So you’re saying there’s something to insinuate?” 

“Stop!” He tosses a pillow at your face. 

“Okay, okay!” You laugh as you block the pillow with your hands. It bounces onto the floor beside you. “I’ll drop the subject for now. But mark my words, Dave, we will have a conversation about this sometime.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“You always have something to say.” You throw the pillow back at him. “You’re not exactly the knight of silence, Dave.”

“Well there we go, I’m gonna say some and then we’re never going to talk about this ever again.”

“That makes complete and total sense.”

“Back to what we were _originally_ talking about,” Dave says in an attempt to draw the conversation away from his relationship with Karkat, “I’ve got a brand spanking new single just dying to lose its auricular virginity right here in my sylladex if that’s a thing you’d be into. Or would you rather listen to Wonderwall again?”

“That’s a tough question.” You reply, stroking your chin thoughtfully. “On the one hand, you’re my brother and I want to support your work. On the other hand, Wonderwall is, in one word, a jam.”

“I feel like I’m learning so much about you today. Mainly about your undying devotion to Wonderwall.”

“It’s a good song, Dave. I’m just giving credit where credit is due.”

“So you want to listen to Wonderwall again?”

“Fuck no, give me your mix.”

It takes Dave a few minutes to retrieve the disc from his sylladex, during which time he also threw some of his shit around your already cluttered room. He pushes himself off your bed and gingerly hands you the CD. You open up your shitty CD player and swap yours for the new one.

“It sounds better when you’re laying someplace comfy.” He tells you before you press play.

You raise an eyebrow. “Does it now?”

“Well it would sound better to me if you were laying someplace comfy.” Dave admits. “Feeling the cold hard ground on your back is never a pleasant sensation, in my experience.”

Part of you really wants to ask him about said experience. You’ve always been curious about Dave’s life. There are things he’s hinted at, but never stated outright. 

And from what you remember, the implications from those hints is...disturbing 

You resist questioning him, though. As much as you’d love to break out your old notebook and ask him to tell you about his childhood, that’s not something you can do. There’s some lines that even you know better than to cross. 

Who knows, maybe he’ll be comfortable enough to tell you someday.

“Well, I definitely want to get the best listening experience possible from this.” You get up and take a seat on the edge of your bed. “Unfortuately for you, Dave, you’re going to have to find somewhere else to sit.”

“What the fuck? There’s more than enough room on your bed for both of us. This thing’s huge! Your bed’s like the size of a god damn ocean.”

“Then what does that make my room?”

“A bigger ocean.” He replies as he climbs on top of your bed and stands on it. “Your bed is a smaller pocket ocean within the terrifying and watery depths of an even larger ocean. You see all this shit? Scattered all over your floor?”

You nod and scoot further onto the bed. “Yes, I do see it.”

“First of all, you should really clean this up because this is a fucking mess, how can you even live like this, Rose, seriously? Second of all, fish.”

“Fish?”

“Yeah.” Dave starts bouncing. “Those fucking deep sea monster fish, with the weird glow in the dark skin and sharp teeth-”

“-you just described Kanaya.”

“-that’s what all your shit is.” He finishes before registering your interruption. “Well fuck, I hate to tell you this, Rose, but I think you might be dating a deep sea fish.”

“You’re right.” You gasp. “It all makes sense now. How did I not make the connection sooner?”

Dave shrugs. “You just don’t have my level of insightfulness, Rose. You gotta learn how to read between the lines. That’s something you’re gonna have to work on in the future.”

“Fuck.” You moan, covering your face with your hands and flopping down in mock despair. “That’s too daunting a task, Dave. I don’t think I’ll ever reach your level of expertise, not in this lifetime.”

“Not with that attitude you won’t,” Dave retorts, nudging your shoulder affectionately with a slippered foot, “just stick with me, kid, and you’ll go far.”

“I’ve already stuck with you to the far reaches beyond our own universe. Just how much farther are you intending on taking me?” You ask, sliding your hands far enough off your face to extend an eyebrow.

“As far as this train of thought will take us. Come on, Rose, get your ticket ready and hop aboard the bullshit express.”

“Oh, so we’re riding a train, now. I wasn’t aware our mode of transportation had changed from a meteor to a locomotive.”

“Choo choo, bitch.”

“If I may request a specific stop on our journey together as hobos?”

“Sure, you can request shit, but I can’t say for sure if you’ll get it. When you’re riding the rails as rough and wild as we are, there’s no telling what the fuck’s about to go down.”

“Certainly not us tumbling out of the traincar, I would hope.” You reply with a nod. “But tell me this, are there any stops near the CD player?”

“Oh, fuck.” Dave seems genuinely surprised when you say that. “Neither of us pressed play yet, did we?”

“Unless your new album consists of five minutes of pure silence, then no Dave, we didn’t.”

“Okay, just hold up for a sec. Train’s pulling into the station and I’m pulling out of it -yes, I know what that sounded like put your fucking eyebrows _down,_ Rose- and I’m gonna get this party started.”

He hops off the bed and crosses the short distance over to the CD player. “And hey, could you scoot over on the bed? Your floor sucks and I don’t want to lay on it.”

You roll your eyes but do as he asks. There’s definitely enough room for both of you on the bed, and it’s not like you provided him with anywhere else to sit. Where’s Karkat and his sylladex of chairs when you need him?

Dave presses play and jumps back onto the bed, the force of which causes you to bounce. “Alright so in order to get the full effect of this rad album you’re gonna have to close your eyes, pull the stick out of your ass, and just kick back, relax, and let the sound of my sweet sweet vibes sweep you out to chill sea.”

“Alright.” You close your eyes and relax. “I’m ready, throw me overboard into the icy tempest of your sick beats.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to throw you overboard off a train?”

“I have no idea, Dave, you’re the one mixing transportation metaphors.”

“Fair enough.”

You both manage to shut the fuck up for roughly two minutes while you listen to Dave’s music. You have to admit, it’s better than you expected. Really catchy. You can’t help but tap your fingers along to the beat.

Then the song ends. Before the next one can begin, Dave jolts up and throws one of his slippers at the CD player. Surprisingly, he manages to shut it off.

“So?” He turns to you and tilts his head. “Questions? Criticisms? Compliments? Whatever you got, lay it on me.”

“That was really good, Dave, I’m shocked.”

“Thanks for the backhand, I guess.”

“Don’t mention it.” You sit up. “All joking aside, that was an interesting piece. The fate of music is safe in your well equipped hands.”

“Oh. Um...” He looks flustered by your compliment. His face reddens a bit. “Thanks. Again.”

“Don’t mention it. Again.” You crack a smile. “Is there more you wanted to play or do you think the rest of the album would blow too much of my mind for me to properly enjoy?”

“You know what? I thought about it and I think your brain just might be strong enough to handle the pure concentrated awesome sauce that is the next song.” He pulls off his other slipper. “I’m gonna warn you ahead of time, though, this next one’s practically bursting with Vantas juice.”

“Vantas juice.” 

“I know what I said.” He tosses his remaining slipper at the CD player.

It starts playing again.

“That’s some precision slipper tossing you’ve got there.”

“Hell yeah,” Dave nods, “but really it’s nothing compared to the way you pitch a ball of yarn. You’ve got a strong arm on you, did you ever consider playing sports? Like that one with the ball?”

“Ah, yes. The sport with the ball. The sportball.”

“You know, that one with the little ball? Fits in your fist?”

“Fist ball?”

“Fist ball junior, I think.”

“Of course, fist ball junior.” You nod. “I am a champion of that game. Fist ball junior is my life.”

“You’ve been a jock this whole time.” Dave says accusingly. “I fucking knew it.”

“I can’t believe you found out my secret, Dave. Now I have to kill you with my own two muscularly sculpted fingers.”

“Fuck.”

And then you both lapse into silence so you can once again focus on the music. It’s mostly electronically rendered instruments, but there’s the occasional burst of rap and some clumsier sounding beats that you think must be Karkat’s part in the song. From the corner of your eye, you can see Dave mouthing the words.

This time Dave doesn’t stop the CD player when the next song begins. You guess you’re just going to finish listening to the rest of the CD before he asks for your input again. You file all of your thoughts so far in the back of your head so you’re prepared for it. 

“Hey, Rose?”

Here you go. “Yeah, Dave?”

“Did you ever think we’d have it this good?”

That’s not the question you were expecting. It almost catches you off guard.

“Did I ever think we’d see our guardians murdered and get separated from our friends and only other survivors of our species for years as we travel to battle the worst enemy in existence?”

“W-when you put it like that...” he mumbles, picking at his sleeve. “I guess you’re right, that question was dumb as fuck.”

“No,” you shake your head, “I never said it was a dumb question. I think I got what you meant.”

Your childhood was...stifling. And incredibly lonely. It was just you and your mother and your cat in the middle of nowhere, New York. It wasn’t long before it was just you and your mother. 

You never knew where you stood with her. Your relationship was never clear. Was her affection ironic, or was it smotheringly real? Did she love you, or was she disappointed in you? Was there even a division between the two when it came to your relationship with her?

Even now you sometimes lay awake at night, full of anxiety and guilt and questions that you’ll never have the answers to. 

But even so...you can’t help but feel that this is better. Your life now is so much better than it was before. You’re more comfortable, more open about who you are. 

The world ended, and you’ve never been happier.

“Honestly?” You admit. “No, I never did think we’d have it as good as this. It’s shocking, really. But I’m glad that we’re both here and that we both have it pretty good right now.” 

“Yeah.” Dave gives a slight smile. “I’m glad, too.”

You don’t have anything to say in response, so you just tilt your head back and continue to listen to the music. This next one sounds like one that you could have fun dancing to. Perhaps you could get a little dance party arranged sometime? It could be fun.

“Hey, do you think it’s safe for me to leave the room yet?”

“What’s the matter, Dave, getting tired of my company?”

“Nah,” he shakes his head, “but this is almost over and I figured hey, why not go fuck around outside for a bit? Just hang and shit?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” You nod. You’re feeling a lot better now than when Dave first came in. “You know, we really don’t hang and shit as much as we should.”

“You’re damn right we don’t.” He stands up. “Fuck, this floor is freezing.”

There’s not much of the CD left, less than a whole song left. Dave goes over to the CD player and waits for it to end while he puts his slippers back on.

“So, what did you think about it?” He asks, putting the CD back in his sylladex. “Did you like it or did I hype it up too much after the first song?”

“You? Hyping things up? That’s impossible.” You shake your head. “I did enjoy it. If there was a way your sweet rhymes and dope melody lines could physically kill me I think it would count as a heroic death.”

“Shit,” Dave laughs, “I think that might be the biggest compliment anyone’s ever given me.”

You climb off the bed and head towards the door. “And I meant every word of it.”

“Hey, uh...before we go out there and get back to being something that resembles functional human beings, I have something that I want to get off my chest first.” His voice is the most serious you think you’ve ever heard it before. He takes a deep breath. “Listen, I know there’s a lot of shit that we’ve never really...discussed. And at this point that feels kind of weird as fuck because we’re close? Or at least I think we’re close. Anyway what I mean is, neither of us has talked about our baggage before, and I don’t know about you but I am heavily laden with baggage. My back is fucking bending under the gravitational weight of all these god damn sacks of shit on my spine. But I’m gonna try real hard to tear through some of those bags and spill out at least a little of my shit. At least a couple turd nuggets. I’m not sure how long it’ll take, but I’m gonna try to be more open in the future. I guess the gist of what I’m trying to say is...Rose, there are many things that I would like to say to you, but I don’t know how.”

“Oh wow, Dave, I...can’t believe you just fucking quoted Oasis lyrics at me.” You push him jokingly. “You asshole.”

There’s a shit eating grin plastered across his face. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

“Then I have something I’d like to tell you too. Dave,” you clap your hands onto his shoulders and look him dead in the eyes, “you’re my wonderwall.”

He bursts out laughing. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“I have no idea.” Dave’s laugh is so infectious you can’t help but join. “Shall we go?”

You push the door open before Dave even answers and you both step out. 

Just a few feet down the hall from your door are Karkat and Kanaya. They both look shocked to see you.

“Rose,” Kanaya’s voice is tinged with surprise, “we were just coming to see how you were.”

You smile. “I’m alright.”

“In that case, did you want to...come with me? To do something? Watch a movie, perhaps?”

“That’d be nice.” You agree with a nod. You turn to Dave. “Would you boys like to join us?”

“Fuck, you know I’m always down for a good flick.” Dave replies. “Or a bad one. Anything’s good I fucking love movies.” 

“Perfect.” Kanaya walks over to you and takes your hand in hers. “Then let’s go.”

You start walking. Dave and Karkat walk a short distance behind. You can hear them both talking and laughing. 

You glance behind you and wiggle your eyebrows at Dave. His face reddens a little and he looks away from you. He’s embarrassed, but still smiling.

Kanaya’s hand squeezes yours affectionately. She smiles when you look at her.

You really can’t believe how good you have it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this! I hope you liked it :D


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